


Empty Rooms, Broken Parts

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alien Dean Winchester, Alien Sam Winchester, Alternate Universe - Aliens, Angst, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Castiel and Benny are friends, Dean/Castiel Mini-Bang, Drama, Falling In Love, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Horror, How to Destroy Angels, Human Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mention of Blood Drinking, Mention of Cannibalism, Murder, Organ Theft, Past Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester, References to Sex, Romance, Science Fiction, Severed Parts, Skin Stealing and Wearing, Suicidal Castiel, Suicidal Thoughts, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-06
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2018-02-24 07:39:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2573561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are two halves to every whole and two sides to any story. </p><p>Dean and his partner Sam have been sent up to Earth to harvest the organs of male humans. After fleeing his partner, Dean - not knowing the purpose of his mission nor understanding his own encroaching humanity - is thrown into Castiel’s world with severe consequences. Castiel, a human wrecked by the death of his sister and suicidal, finds a comfort and solace in the alien that he can’t begin to describe, leading to a tentative friendship and romance. The problem is that Castiel knows nothing about what Dean really is and doesn’t seem to want to either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Empty Rooms, Broken Parts

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [DeanCas Big Bang](http://deancasbigbang.livejournal.com/) as a Mini Bang piece. 
> 
> The amazing art featured at the beginning of the story was made by [cuddle_me_carl.](http://cuddle-me-carl.livejournal.com/480.html) Please go check out their journal so as to give the piece some love. 
> 
> This story was inspired by the film 'Under the Skin.' Lyrics are taken from How to Destroy Angels' 'The Space in Between.' I have also created a [playlist](http://hypster.com/playlists/userid/5354917?7151269) with songs that inspired this story.

__

 

_~Arms entwined in a final pose_

_Narrative drawing to a close_

_Still remain the things we couldn’t kill_

_In your eyes I can see it still~_

* * *

 

She knew who he was... somehow, he could see it in her eyes right before they rolled up inside her head. Just before they exploded into small sparkling, somewhat fiery orbs of blood-red light. She knew what he was doing even despite his own distorted sense of reason; he had seen her eyes before in someone else’s face but never that look, that look of realization accompanying the panic and the terror as she shrunk in on herself, as her skin boiled and bubbled and collapsed in on her, as she faded away before his very eyes, resorting to a puddle at his bloodied boots all except for her head and immaculately designed face. 

She knew what he was.

He picked up her severed head, framed by golden curls, skin pale in the comfortable white of the room, and stared into her eyes. The last flicker of life, the second best part, second after the seduction. He felt something but it was nothing close to what he felt when he claimed their skin. He wouldn’t take hers, he could not feel comfortable in her skin. There was no remorse, perhaps respect though, if he knew what that was.

Continuing to hold her head as he left his partner’s temporary place of residence, he breathed in the hot, stuffy morning air and climbed into his baby. He would look over at the girl occasionally for the next hour or so before turning her away from him permanently.

Back to work.

 

Castiel sat on the second story ledge which would lead back into his bedroom if he so chose to move backward, legs dangling off the edge and a bottle of whiskey dangling in his hand. He took another long, hard swallow, wiping his mouth off on the back of his sleeve. Castiel could not believe, not anymore, and he laughed at the notion of ever believing in a higher power.

His sister, Anna, was dead, dead enough to not ever come back, to not ever smile at him again, support him in his need to create when destruction reigned down upon him. No, his beautiful big sister had been raped and murdered and he hadn’t been there, and they had never caught who had done it either. His brother had left, he had never expected Gabriel to stay in the first place, but now he was alone with broken dreams and a thirst he could not quench and a need to destroy everything in his path where he once would have created such beautiful things.

Now there was no beauty. Now there was just nothing at all. 

The empty bottle slipped out of his sweaty hand and crashed to the pavement below. He didn’t have the guts or the right frame of mind to join the jagged pieces of glass just yet. It had been a month and he still wasn’t ready.

Even if he no longer believed in a god he still believed in heaven; he believed that he would see Anna again and how soon was all up to him and his readiness to fight to eradicate his stupid want for self-preservation. Anna had always joked with him about that, how he could never hurt a fly and also never let anything happen to himself willingly. Gabriel was the reckless one and Anna was levelheaded but deep in her thoughts and tragic if she stayed in her head long enough. Castiel was easygoing and optimistic and generally happy, and he knew he always had made Anna happy.

Anna always had one of those big grins ready for him, with no predetermined notions or expectations accompanying it. He loved how clever she was, loved the way she loved. The way she had loved _him_.

Now it was only ash and dust.

He would jump tomorrow for sure.

 

Dean.

He had never called himself by a name before, neither had his partner, but they had agreed upon their last hunt to take the names of the previous owners of their most recent skins. Dean had a peculiar ring to it, but one he liked, and while it would take him a full two months to accidentally call himself this, he accepted it for what it was: a need to grow closer to humanity.

That was what this was all for in the first place.

He had been sent down to Earth by his people to mingle with humans, to live among them for the remainder of his existence and learn about their tastes, desires and inevitabilities. Sex, as the humans deemed it, was fun and enlightening, though he was both attracted to and despised men only. He would lure them into his baby and then into his dark and barren home, taunting them with a look at his brand new, much prized skin and then he would watch them collapse in on themselves... and they always did.

He would watch, seldom getting his hands bloody as Sam often would. He would step back and admire the view, hear the bones cracking and the hiss of oxygen between clenched teeth. It was all the same but it was enjoyable every time and his self-satisfied smile revealed all. He did not know why he did it, why he chose this path, perhaps it was some memory or dream or regret. He did not know why the pull was so strong.

The water was achingly hot and seemed thicker than blood as he sank down into it after each hunt, cleansing his form and unleashing the thoughts holding his mind captive. He would admire his skin in the water but never in a mirror, he would run his fingers over his limbs but never his face. He would check for scratches and contusions, feeling the bump at the back of his skull that lingered after being shoved backward into the pavement a week before on accident.

Dean... yes he was okay with it, became satisfied with it more and more, though he made sure to lock the head up in his closet when he slipped out of the murky water.

 

Castiel could not sleep, not even when all the stress that had been in his life he had taken care of. He had quit his part-time job at Benny’s, much to his boss’ concern, and he had cut himself out of any and all social activities and gatherings of any kind, needing to shut himself away until he could find the strength to do what he needed to.

He kept pictures of Anna around, on his bedside table and he hung the larger ones on the wall. He was surrounded by her beauty and permeability at every waking moment and he knew it hurt him more than helped him but he couldn’t find himself to care. Castiel could pretend that he could remember the feel of her raging red hair, the feel of her porcelain, so delicate skin as he had held her tightly, as if knowing then she would be lost to him forever someday, but he couldn’t remember a damn thing and it killed him.

Every time Gabriel called him there was loud, thumping music in the background and he was always slurring his words... _drunk_. ‘Hey-a, Cassie, how’s it going?’ and ‘Havin’ the greatest time of my life, you really should join me....’

He’d rather join Anna, wherever she was.

He sighed and sat out on the window ledge for a good hour or two, pushing himself out further and further until one more inch he dared to move and he would drop and go splat on the pavement. He laughed as he pictured it happen, crumpling under the weight of the world, bones bending and breaking, head crushed like an eggshell, blood seeping out that didn’t look like his own at all.

It still wasn’t the time and he scooted back until he was on his feet again, but not steady and not happy with himself at all. He frowned, stumbling back to his bed, pulling the sheets up further and further until he was under them, hiding from the world. His phone vibrated somewhere nearby and he knew it was Benny or Gabriel and didn’t want to speak to either one of them.

The apartment had been crowded before, with the three of them constantly butting in on each other’s personal space, but now it seemed empty and vacant even with him in it.

He sobbed loud and hard - the ferocity of it racking his entire form - until he fell asleep and clung to anything but blissful dreams.

 

Dean usually picked up human men at night, where he could hide partially in the shadows. It was only because the harvesting of organs was better done in darkness, he couldn’t explain the why of it, just that it felt more comfortable. The precious organs would be secured in the blinding red light and would be transported safely back to his own planet. He scarcely thought about what his people did with them but really didn’t care enough, and Sam had never brought up the question.

The skins... which were what Dean was most fascinated with... were the only organ he cared about in the human form. He had no such skin to speak of, no such distinguishable features that set him apart from the rest. Maybe this was why he loved his new human skin so, but he suspected it was something more. As enticing as every seduction and then obligatory but thrilling nonetheless extraction was, the claiming of Dean Winchester differed in a multitude of ways.

Dean had been different, beautiful, feminine even and he wore his skin with pride. It showed with every stride he took, every time he shot a grin at the next who would be claimed. He had been lonely before but not with Dean, Dean brought him closer to it all, made him feel somewhat human and his partner hadn’t been able to stand that. Even though it was his partner, after all, that had taken Dean’s brother, claiming to like the feel and the smell of his skin, and maybe that brought him closer to Dean in his own way, but still he suspected something more.

His partner’s distaste for his almost carefully hidden obsession with his new skin angered him, so he fled, but he fled for another reason as well.

He had picked Dean’s skin up off the ground with considerate care and put it on gently, savoring every inch of it, looking at himself vainly in the mirror. Those green eyes called to him, and those full lips gave him a whole new look on seduction. This was the life that Dean could have never had, because it was more than just taking Dean Winchester’s skin as his own, it was more than looking back at a face that was more his own than his own one was.

Dean was still there with him somehow, his personality was lingering, stretched out to hold itself in the thin expanse of his skin. Dean was still calling to him in his own siren song, just like he had seduced Dean in the once tanned skin of the red-head he had kept for nearly three years. 

He had lured him so easily, but nothing about Dean was simple or easy.

He would never forsake this skin.

Dean was his own in so many ways.

As partially explained before, much of the hunting was done under the cover of darkness, when human men and their supposed female counterparts were lingering on every street, watching him go by, already close and not having to be persuaded to come much closer when he rolled his window down and asked for directions. He would interrupt their words as they pointed somewhere far off and told him where to go, he would ask where they were coming from and what they liked to do and how they felt about something or other. They thought he was so charming that they always took the bait, the females more than most.

He would not let them step inside, would never show interest in their fragile skin or long, curling hair or sweet scent. It not only was not his job to mingle with human females, most likely because their organs were not needed, but it was in his best interest to not blur the line between male and female. They were separate in his highly attuned mind and they forever would be, his last hunt had brought him too close to the edge to ever do it again.

It had been a necessity though, a necessary evil as he and only he called his mission.

He kept the heads in his closet because he needed them there.

It was currently daytime, a dreary day that made him question his somewhat human desires, but he relented nonetheless. Shopping was an entirely human custom, but unlike consuming food of every shape, size and color, it was an activity he could partake in. He lusted after many of the items his curious eyes fell upon as he entered store after store. He enjoyed department stores the most, where they would sell anything and everything, no matter how strange.

It was his responsibility to maintain his skin, to ensure it would not rot or wither away. His own natural skin ensured its preservation, but he could enhance himself and his means of seduction in ways he could not afford to overlook. He took care not to strain his eyes, to not look up at the quizzical sun that bore heat down mercilessly upon him, as if telling him it knew what he was. He encased his human feet in well-made shoes that he could walk all day in; he chose clothes that suited his figure and appealed to every one of the senses; and he purchased expensive scents that humans produced merely for their own pleasure and for others to shower pleasure on them.  

Shopping, as it was deemed, was not something he did on a daily basis. He did not have an inexhaustible human income, and the walking and browsing did tire him out. Still, it was enjoyable.

His boots he would replace today with new ones, and another bottle of the cologne he had taken to nearly instantly would be needed as well. He found a leather jacket that was too much like his own skin but yet he bought it and donned it with pride. He had his hair cut and tried on nearly twenty pairs of jeans until he settled on a tight-fitting dark blue pair.

He looked at himself in the long, oval-shaped mirror and smiled. He was too damn irresistible to be resisted for long.

It was rare that he smiled, but ever since he had left Sam to embark on hunts of his own, to claim without another set of eyes watching, another pair of hands carefully showing him the best way to harvest, the correct temperature to keep the light tuned to, he had found himself hunting more and more. His obsession and adoration for independence was entirely human and he loved it for solely this purpose, if he could even love anything at all.

It was a lie though: he was learning to love. He already loved Dean the first moment he saw him, loved his skin and his eyes and his masculine posture, his feminine features and the smirk his mouth could produce. He loved his deep voice and the way he would blush fiercely, the heat his body and very skin would give off when he drank. He loved the seduction and holding their heads in his hands, watching their eyes blink back at him. He loved shopping and sight-seeing and he loved it when they got into his baby, running their hands along her seats.

He loved walking away from them, backwards, loved watching them sink deeper and deeper down until they could no longer see him or hope to catch him. He loved walking backwards as if his whole existence was in reverse, as if only speeding up could bring him back. 

His partner had loved completely different things, like the blood and crushing the eyeballs as if they were merely pieces of candy. He loved grinding their bones in between his new huge hands so the harvesting process went faster. He loved to feed off flesh, taking advantage of his strong jaws and his teeth he claimed were meant to tear, and he loved to drink the blood until he was sick and suffocate in it but none of it was love... not really, anyway.

They weren’t meant to love, after all.

 

“Ya don’t call and ya don’t write, sugah. What the hell am I supposed ta think?”

He stepped aside rather than let Benny plow into him in his need to get inside his apartment. “I’m fine, Benny. Really I am.” He had told his boss this over and over but he never believed him, and enough times of saying it in that damn monotone voice he just couldn’t get rid of finally convinced him to come to his apartment and grill him in person, where Castiel could not hang up the phone and surely could not kick him out.

Benny had always been a good friend to him and that was the problem. Benny deserved better, he didn’t deserve getting caught up in his bullshit. Castiel would bring him down, just like he had brought down Gabriel. It was better to just let their friendship slip away.

His boss and friend moved to the kitchen, leaned against the counter and faced him. “I ain’t leavin’ till ya tell me what’s goin’ on. I know ya been depressed and I know ya been avoiding me too. At least lemme cook somethin’ and bring it over sometime, ya need to eat.”

“I’m fine,” Castiel said indignantly. He was shocked that he wanted to be alone so much, but then again he had always done better alone, where no one was watching him or pestering him. It had been easy to pretend for a few weeks that there was no one still living that cared about him, but it had only been repressing the facts.

He knew Gabriel loved him despite his abandonment, knew Gabriel had been proud of him before Anna had gone away. Castiel had had a lot of hopes and dreams, he wanted to be an artist or a sculptor or a poet or an interior designer... something where he could create to his heart’s content. He wanted to learn how to play beautiful music and then make it, he wanted to be successful and most of all wanted to feel accomplished.

Benny loved him too, which was why he was there, at his apartment, not letting him suffer alone. He did miss cooking, missed cooking at Benny’s and even for himself, which he had really let slip. He missed the familiar smells of fried shrimp, baked bread, sausage and carrots and onions, and he missed the taste of blue crab and confectioner’s sugar, not together, of course. There were some days where nothing could cheer him up but being in the kitchen and fulfilling orders, knowing his food would be loved when it was sent out to waiting customers. He and Benny would take their breaks together, talk and laugh about stupid things. Hell, Benny had even been invited to his last four ridiculous birthday parties, hosted by Gabriel himself.

Every time he looked at him though, he saw a life he had to escape. He saw Anna and it was more than one man could handle. 

Benny crossed his arms, “Like I’m gonna believe that bullshit. You ain’t fine, brotha. You should come back to the kitchen with me, it’ll lift up yer spirits some. Ya know it will.”

“Maybe,” Castiel said. He was tense and uncomfortable and wanted to be left alone. His hands were behind his back and he was picking at the skin of his fingernails.

“I don’t mean ta poke around where I’m not wanted, but I’m worried about ya, Cas. Please, just tell me what’s goin’ on in that head of yers.”

Castiel relented, he didn’t know whether it was the familiar and comforting thick Southern drawl - as thick as molasses - melting him from the inside out, or the sympathetic, heavily concerned look in his best friend’s eyes and written all over his face, didn’t know whether it was the surprising lack of pity and the genuine desire he got from his friend that he did want to help, but Castiel was ready to lay it all out on the line, to tell Benny what he had been feeling for weeks now, every thought and every feeling, every doubt and every moment he hated himself for being the one left behind.

His sister had been accepted to a prestigious university, had so many things she still wanted to do.

He broke.

“It isn’t fair, Benny. Why did she have to be the one to leave, why couldn’t it have been me? I don’t... I don’t know what to do anymore. I feel so lost.” Before he even realized what was happening, he was sobbing and trying to hide his head in his hands as if that would change anything. He wasn’t a person who would tell someone else what was on his mind, and he definitely wasn’t someone who would openly cry in front of someone else either, but here he was: crying in front of his boss and nothing could stop the tears.

“Aw, cher. Come here.” Benny opened up his arms and Cas went right into them, burrowing his head against the man’s strong chest, breathing in the familiar scents of shrimp and cooking grease and even _home_. “It’ll be alright, you’ll see.”

Castiel was really tempted to believe his best friend, but he knew it wasn’t the truth.

He would never be alright again.

 

It was a good day for the beach: dreary, desolate, a perfect day to hunt without being seen. He walked for a while, far enough away from the water, shivering slightly in the chilled wind that came across the ocean and swept toward him. It was good to just walk and think sometimes, see if he could feel human. To see if feeling humanity grind against him eventually settled in him. It was so nauseating sometimes, not being able to do certain things, feeling things that couldn’t be explained, things humans called emotions, gaining something from one of the senses that confused him and made him disoriented.

Humanity was fragility, it was beautiful, like the girl’s curls were, curls that now hung limp off the rotting head in his closet, but it was weakness and forced acceptance of that weakness.

That was why he had to feel power, that was why he didn’t argue about it.

He looked up as he saw a figure come out of the water. He stood still, watching as the relatively young human male strode out of the water shirtless, barely paying mind to Dean’s form as he looked in his direction briefly. Dean smirked but strolled down to the water with his face impassive.

It was a beautiful day, all right.

He stopped before he was too close, but yelled out over the rushing waves. “Nice day for a swim, isn’t it?”

The human laughed, “I don’t know about that. It’s pretty cold to me. I just like it cause there’s no huge crowd.”

Dean nodded and smiled, taking note of how perfectly proportioned the man’s face was, of how light it was and how shadows couldn’t even seem to touch it. The water was dark, stormy and chaotic, but it was like there was a light in front of him that couldn’t be dimmed. Not until he did something about it anyway. “You come here often?”

“Yeah. I live up the road a few miles.”

“Do you live with anyone else?” Through it all he kept smiling, that charming smile that only Dean could do so well. It wasn’t really faked, it came to him naturally. He liked the hunt, loved the seduction, talking was the fun part and so was luring them in.

“Nah, I live alone.”

“How do you like living alone? It must get pretty lonely, huh?”

The man shrugged like they all did, trying to be shy when they weren’t. Dean always backed away whenever they would ask him questions, questions he not only shouldn’t but couldn’t answer. He still didn’t know what it was like to be alone, didn’t have the right to have a perspective on loneliness. His kind were solitary creatures, which was why his partner had rebelled against a partner in the first place. So had he, but the thought of working alongside someone hadn’t bothered him then. It did now, enough for him to fear being found.

“Yeah.” He shrugged again, “I guess it does. Never really thought about it.”

The human was starting to get irritated with the conversation so Dean backed off. He never had to force anything, the human would come to him just like everyone else did. The day he felt the need to force himself upon someone would be the day he knew he was doing something wrong. “Want to go for a swim?”

His smile was so charming and genuine, he knew it was, knew it enough that the man couldn’t refuse, would end up getting in the water with him because he thought he was cute, maybe asked too many questions but still was cute. He smiled wider.

“Sure, what the hell. I’m already cold, might as well go back in before I start to warm up some.”

Dean followed him into the water, unsure and hesitant but determined not to show it, even if it did work in his favor. He had never been submerged in water before, cold, thick liquid yes - dipping his hands in it as he placed the organs inside its chilled embrace for preservation - but never water, which was in short supply in his home. The man held out his hand and he took it, allowing him to guide him into the water.

It felt beautiful when he was in up to his neck, it was amazingly thin and soft and he felt dry underneath the water, brushed back his perfectly short, spiked hair, feeling his face, his arms, his entire body. He felt different in that darkness, felt like a whole new person. Underneath that warm water he wasn’t who he was, he was someone else, maybe even Dean. He found that he could breathe fine; the Dean that was still inside him couldn’t, he was gripping the alien fiercely, struggling for breath, fighting for reprieve.

Dean kept himself under, grabbed the other man’s legs and pulled him under. He fought, fought for long seconds that seemed precious to the both of them, long, drawn out beautiful seconds that ticked by like a clock in his head. He fought but Dean was too strong a match for him, overpowering him until the human simply had to accept his fate. Dean had never done it this way before, had never drowned a human, but the struggle felt good, the power he kept in control felt like coming home after eons.

He could still feel Dean in him somewhere, but he was slipping away again like he always did in the middle of his hunts. It was better that way.

He came back up to the surface an hour later.

 

Castiel was on the ledge again for the twelfth time with these intentions.

He had been up there hundreds of times before, when Anna was alive, she would sit up there with her eyes trained on a book and a smile stretching her beautiful mouth and lighting up her angelic features and she would read to him, long, thick novels that would keep them up late at night. Castiel used to love to read on his own too, but not anymore, it was torture to concentrate on a page, impossible to make the words have meaning when all they ever were anymore was blurred together, devoid of life.

He was devoid of life too, nothing could get him excited or ashamed, passionate or repulsed.

Maybe today he would have the guts to jump, to end the long months of waiting: waiting for nothing, for it to end not by his own means... for what? For Anna to come back and tell him he didn’t need to go on alone? For Gabriel to come back and shake some sense into him physically, for him to be the big brother he always wanted but never fully had? What the fuck was he even waiting for?

He pushed himself forward, hands shaking, fingers trembling, breath wheezing in and out hurriedly, vision blurred and legs almost seizing up in panic. When he was situated exactly where he wanted to be he grabbed the bottle again and drank half of it down in only a few swallows. It burned fiercely as it worked its way down his sore throat, setting his eyes aflame and that’s what he could blame the tears on like the pathetic, worthless piece of trash he was, who didn’t want to take responsibility for anything.

If he just jumped off and fell, would he feel it? Would he feel himself falling, would he start caring then, in those last few seconds?

He drank more, coming closer to the end of the bottle. He would do it when it was empty, he couldn’t keep on doing this, hanging off the ledge like this just waiting for something to happen, waiting for him to toughen up and do it already. When the last drop was gone, the bottle slipped out of his fingers and he watched it fall, pretended that it was him falling, pretended that he could be that weightless, that confident.

After an eternity he opened his eyes, realizing he hadn’t heard it shatter into the concrete below.

He looked down, catching sight of a man on the ground face down and the empty bottle now lying beside him, relatively unbroken. There were several stray people crowding around him, trying to get him to respond. Castiel’s eyes widened and he gasped, scrambling off the ledge as fast as he could and running down the several flights of stairs until he burst through the door and made it outside into the dreary, overcast day.

He paid no mind to the other people and instead raced towards the man, trying to look him over, touching his head, his arm, his leg gently as if only he could cause him to respond. He was such an idiot, if he had hurt him he would never forgive himself.

After he touched his head briefly a second time the man stirred, lifting his head up gingerly and Castiel made sure to get into his line of view, to reassure him that everything was okay and maybe even beg for him not to press charges. Like he deserved that, like he deserved to be anywhere but dead or rotting in jail. He still put a reassuring smile on his face though, touched the man’s head again gently, checking for contusions. He couldn’t look at the bottle not even two feet away, didn’t pay any mind to the jumbled words he heard of the man tripping instead of being knocked down by a fucking bottle of whiskey.

When the man finally got his head up he looked into his eyes, and Castiel could immediately see how young he was: late twenties most likely, several years younger than Castiel. He smiled wider, holding the other man’s arms with his hands and helping to steady him. He had the most beautiful eyes that Castiel had ever seen: bright, candy apple green eyes that shone like a thousand stars in the sky.

 

He woke up disoriented, but he knew he was on the ground and he knew that someone was touching him. The fingers that brushed against Dean’s skin were hesitant and gentle, soft and soothing. He sank into the touch, not knowing what he was doing but not caring. He couldn’t remember how he ended up on the hard, unrelenting ground, but he told himself that somehow it didn’t matter.

When he lifted up his head and opened his eyes there was a calming set of cerulean eyes looking back at him. He tried to smile back at the human, but all that came out was a grimace. It didn’t matter to the other man though, he settled his hands on Dean’s arms and held him there, held him in that moment as if he knew Dean didn’t want to leave it.

Dean stared back into those eyes and felt something. Maybe he felt like Dean once would have, or maybe this was entirely caused by him, however much sense that made.

“...okay?”

He blinked, honing in on the gravelly voice but not the words. The human was mesmerizing, looking into those eyes made him feel like he was spinning out of control. He didn’t try to open his mouth, knowing no words would come out; he wasn’t one much for talking and neither had Dean been. His partner was always getting excited over the smallest thing, yakking on and on about this or that, trying to get him to distance himself further, trying to get him to enjoy the hunt in ways he didn’t want to.

Nobody understood, but this man wasn’t pressing him to talk. He didn’t feel the need to drill him discreetly for information either, something that came to him as easily as the hunt. He had been designed, created and programmed for the hunt and only the hunt. Organ extracting and preserving was tricky but it was all worth it, to have the skin be left behind for him to admire, for the eyes to blink back at him and stare at him with longing and sorrow.

It rubbed his partner the wrong way when he caught him staring back at them, with the same look of longing and sorrow. If only he could obtain them without breaking them apart, one vital piece and then the next and then the next.

In a way, this was a way to become closer to humanity, to understand them. That wasn’t his job and never would be because mingling wasn’t understanding, only analyzing for greater purposes. The here and now wasn’t an option, what he felt on the hunt was never to be expressed or given further thought to.

“Are you okay?”

He tried to clear his head of its cobwebs. The moment before this one must have startled him, forcing him to endure a few precious minutes to reboot himself. This was being caught off guard and he wasn’t supposed to like it but he did. He wasn’t supposed to continue looking into those soft blue eyes but he did and he liked it. He could feel Dean inside him, trying to get a hold of him. He told himself that it couldn’t be happening, that Dean couldn’t still be there but he was, he was pushing him, pulling him, bending him, breaking him.

Dean caught his breath and accepted the other man’s hand with clear intentions to pull him up. That was a no-no right there, but even more than that a _change._

“Let me take you up to my place, make you some tea or something.”

Dean shook his head, but the more he tried to pull away the tighter the human held on and the more he wanted to give in. He had never before entered a human’s place of residence, only public places. He felt nauseated and confused and he hated himself for letting it get this far. He never should have taken Dean’s skin, never would have if he had known the complications he would be forced to endure. He was panicking and he knew it was real and ugly and entirely human-like.

He expelled the meager contents of his stomach onto the man’s shoes, mainly that viscous liquid that he consumed to make him able to breathe better in this foreign environment, that regulated his internal temperature and annihilated the substances found on Earth that could cause his fragile skin and organs harm. He looked up when he was through, taking note of the human’s short, black-hair and reminded of the size of his eyes, so big and blue it was nearly impossible not to be drawn into them.

“Hey.” Those arms wrapped around him again. “It’s okay. Just come with me and we’ll get you cleaned up, okay?”

He nodded slowly, stumbling while the man led him off the street, through the door and up the stairs. The man held his hand the entire way and even though Dean wasn’t directly looking at him, he knew the man was looking back at him every few seconds. He knew humans were caring and compassionate in the right circumstances, knew that was part of what made them human, but he didn’t understand why the man’s hand was sweating, didn’t know where the concerned look on his face came from or why it was still there.

It was a vast understatement to say that he felt strange. He had felt off since claiming Dean’s skin. There was something wrong here, something unexplainable and he didn’t think it was going to go away anytime soon. 

Maybe he was becoming Dean.

It was a thought that chilled him. There was excitement in there somehow though, excitement that he couldn’t begin to understand or justify.

The door closed behind him, it was a loud, startling sound and he jumped, eyes darting back and forth between the entryway they were in and the kitchen directly to the left. The man bent down and Dean watched as he pulled his shoes off with one hand, his other never leaving Dean’s shoulder. Dean leaned into his touch again, trying to find any source of relaxation, no matter how slight, in a new environment. The apartment appeared small at first, but then Dean noticed several doors that seemed to lead into other rooms.

“I’m Castiel, by the way. I don’t think I mentioned that yet.” When he looked up from the human’s - _Castiel’s_ \- hands, Castiel was looking at him again, smiling at him as he tried to rid Dean of his leather jacket. Dean helped, moving his arms so he could get it off better and then Castiel took it from him and hung it up on the coat rack. Dean just stared at him, wondering if he should say something, wondering if he needed to. “Would you like to tell me your name?”

Dean merely looked at him, feeling warm as Castiel’s smile grew wider, a smile that was directed solely towards him. He wondered if the human knew how beautiful his smile was, how soft his hands were or how actually warm he was, warmer than most humans it seemed. His own internal body temperature was colder than that of most humans, but he had never before found himself craving warmth until now.

Castiel finally removed his hand and Dean almost protested out loud at the loss.

“It’s okay. You should talk when you’re ready to and not any sooner. Guess I should apologize too.”

Dean frowned, following Castiel into the kitchen. “I thought I... tripped.” He remembered it now, the slight incline of the sidewalk, the sudden lack of balance.

Castiel shrugged, filling a teapot with water and then putting it on the stove. He brought down two mugs and gestured for Dean to sit down. “Well, I wasn’t quite sure what happened. I thought I knocked you out at the time, but maybe you did just trip.”

Dean didn’t much care what this Castiel had done, he only wanted him to keep talking.

“Anyway, I am sorry. Even if it turns out not to be my fault. You can sit down you know.” His smile was there again, warm and genuine. “Make yourself at home.” Dean would never have a home, not on Earth, anyway, and he had been sent away from the home he had been bred in, but he trusted Castiel and sat down, not knowing what to think of the small, somewhat comfortable kitchen or the human standing in front of the stove, arms crossed and examining Dean closely.

Could Castiel tell he wasn’t human?

No, that was impossible. There was no way to tell that he wasn’t human other than peeling back the skin and revealing what lay underneath: who he really was, what he really looked like and _hated_. If Castiel only understood how beautiful he was, how sweet and caring and....

“Normally I don’t do this, invite people in, I mean, but you looked like you needed a place to sit down and chill out. I usually don’t talk this much either. My brother Gabriel is the chatterbox of the family.”

Dean was still too disoriented to nod, but he looked at Castiel and he imagined that might be enough, just for him to know that someone was listening. Castiel seemed really drawn in on himself and sort of lonely, with the state of his apartment and clothes and the blush that spread across his cheeks and lingered, and Dean was used to the type. After years of studying humans he figured he ought to know quite a lot about them, and he liked lonely types the best, they were more easily targeted.

He didn’t think about hunting Castiel though, or even trying to seduce him. Considering what had just happened and the fact that he had set rigid rules for himself after hunts blown out of proportion, Castiel was off limits.  

There was a hissing behind him and Castiel turned around to take the pot off the stove and pour the water into the two mugs, where Dean then watched him settle the teabags into them and then set one in front of Dean, who stared at it. He wrapped his hands around the mug and nearly recoiled in surprise: it was hot, but it felt miraculously good. He blew on the water and kept his hands there but made no move to sip it; he couldn’t consume human liquid, it would make him sick.

“I didn’t poison it or anything, promise. See?” Castiel took a sip, making a face at the fact that it probably burnt his tongue and Dean laughed, placing a hand over his mouth after doing so in embarrassment. “Hey.” Castiel came over and sat next to him, making sure his chair wasn’t too close to Dean’s as if he would scare him off. Dean doubted that there was anything Castiel could do to make him leave. “You okay?”

He cleared his throat quietly. “Dean.”

Frown lines appeared in Castiel’s forehead.

“That’s my name,” Dean continued. He wondered if he should be giving Castiel this kind of information. Men had asked him for his name before, but he had progressed from never giving it to using a fake name. He also couldn’t give Castiel his true name, the one designated to him once he had been created. Dean seemed like the only option, and he felt so much like Dean in a way that the fact scared him.

The lines in Castiel’s forehead evaporated and he smiled again, the smile that Dean would never grow tired of. “It’s nice to meet you, Dean.”

Dean tried a smile and it worked, not only that but it came much easier to him than usual. “Nice to meet you too, Castiel.”

“You pronounced it right,” Castiel said in surprise, seeming to light up like a light bulb. “That never happens.” He took another sip of his tea. “It’s a good thing you ran into me and not Gabriel, he definitely wouldn’t tolerate your shyness. He’d open you up before you even realized what he was doing, or he’d kick you out. You’re lucky I’m such a patient person.”

Castiel was right, Dean couldn’t think of anything else but being lucky. Being lucky to have met Castiel, to have been given so many smiles that he feared his blush would become permanent, to have those big, blue eyes trained on him, looking at him like he was something special. Dean wasn’t even working at being charming like he usually did, he wasn’t exuding masculinity but vulnerability, wasn’t talking but listening.

It was all so new and different for him that he didn’t know what to do, whether to run and hide or just stay put; he chose the latter.

He didn’t motion towards the full cup of tea Dean was still holding, and he didn’t press Dean with anymore questions either. The two of them just sat there in his kitchen, Castiel talking to him and telling him about his life; even though Dean suspected there was much more he wasn’t saying, he didn’t really care. He liked being with Cas, liked listening to him ramble on and on about things that were important to him. He liked not having to talk, hunt or seduce for once.

The night was approaching - Dean’s favorite time - when Castiel finally cut off his talking and tuned back into reality. “Do you have a place to stay for the night?” Dean was about to nod even though he lived about thirty miles away and really didn’t want to drive back home. He shook his head instead, just a slight turn to the side and back, but Castiel nodded in response. “That’s okay, you can stay here for the night if you’re okay with using my brother’s room. Just... don’t touch anything, otherwise he’ll have my head.”

The comment about Castiel’s head sent a shiver down Dean’s spine. He never wanted to see it separated from that thin, lean body.

Dean followed Castiel as he led him into the room, small but packed to the brim with things that his brother must like: books on music, food, travel, interior decorating; recipes taped to bulletin boards; candy wrappers strewn about the carpet; movie posters; video games and dozens of CDs - anything and everything. He sat on the bed gingerly, not wanting to disturb the room or the bed.

Castiel was about to close the door, “If you need anything just call. And if you’re still here in the morning then I’ll cook you an amazing breakfast.” With that, the door was shut and Dean was alone. He spent the night sitting unmoving on the bed, the light off, thinking about Castiel.

 

For the first morning in months he didn’t think about jumping or falling or drinking himself into a stupor, all he thought about was _Dean_.

Castiel smiled as he crawled out of bed without having to put up a fight with himself, heading into the kitchen and starting breakfast for the two of them. He didn’t open the door to his brother’s room to check if Dean was still there; he wanted to trust him and Castiel knew that he would be. He had this gut feeling that Dean liked him too, no matter how ridiculous that sounded.

The truth was he _really_ liked Dean.

He lay awake half the night just thinking about him, running over his own words to Dean and replaying the few words Dean had spoken to him. Dean was beautiful, his deep voice more of a turn on than he wanted to admit and when he blushed he was adorable.

It was too bad he didn’t have more of a chance to think about him as he cooked before someone was pounding on his door. It wasn’t Benny, who would politely knock and/or tell Castiel who it was. No, this was none other than Gabriel. The question was why he was knocking in the first place.

“Let me in, Cassie, I can hear you cooking! I lost my keys at a party the other night!”

He rolled his eyes, turned the stove down and opened the door. Gabriel surged inside as if Castiel would just as soon shove Gabriel back outside after seeing the state of him; he looked terrible, clothes ripped, bags under his eyes and dirt under his fingernails.

“You look like you’ve been hit by a truck, Gabriel.”

Gabriel scooted past him into the kitchen and snagged a piece of bacon out of the frying pan. “Thanks for the compliment.” He turned the stove back up and started flipping the eggs, “Why are you cooking anyway, little bro? You never cook for yourself anymore.”

“What are you doing here anyway? You haven’t been by in weeks....”

“Don’t change the subject,” Gabriel butt in. He finally looked around the apartment, much to Castiel’s concern. “Aha,” he finally said, his smirk widening. “You’re trying to hide something from me. You’re having someone over, aren’t you, baby bro?”

“Since when is it any of your business, Gabriel? It’s not like you live here anymore.”

Gabriel shrugged, flipping the eggs back over; Castiel could only watch in dread, he didn’t want Gabriel and Dean to meet yet. It was way too soon, he had only met the guy yesterday. “True, but he still better not be sleeping in my room.” The fact that Gabriel said it meant that he knew exactly where Dean was, meaning he wanted to know more. He hopped up onto the counter on a whim - leaving Castiel to take over in the kitchen - and started drilling him. “So, what’s your boyfriend’s name?”

“His name is Dean and he’s not my boyfriend, Gabriel.” The fact that he had said his name first before expressing that Dean wasn’t his anything, maybe not even his friend yet, meant that Castiel viewed Dean as exactly that. It was sickening, to realize how hard and fast Castiel was falling for a guy he knew nothing about other than his name, but he felt really comfortable around Dean.

He felt like himself for lack of better words.

“Sure he isn’t. So, tell me about him.”

“Well, that’s the thing,” Castiel rubbed the back of his neck in nervousness, wishing Gabriel would just drop the whole thing already and simultaneously knowing he wouldn’t. “I just met him yesterday afternoon, I don’t know anything about him.” Not that that phased his brother any, he was only rendered silent for a few moments, studying Castiel intently. “What, Gabriel?” He finally blurted out, wanting him to talk again to make him feel less uncomfortable.

“Nothing. Oh, the eggs are done.” He dropped a plate in front of Cas, “Dig in, kiddo.”

He sighed and stared down at the eggs, feeling depressed again. “Aren’t you going to say anything? Maybe warn me or threaten him that if he ever touches a hair on my head with even slightly less than good intentions, then you’ll cook him in the oven? Aren’t you going to tell me that I’m not in the right head-space to date?”

Gabriel flitted over to the sofa and sprawled out on it with a plate of his own, putting his feet up on the coffee table. “I don’t need to say anything, you’re saying it all.”

Castiel sighed again and dug into his eggs, but his head shot up when he heard the door open. Dean stumbled into the room still in last night’s clothes, yawning, with bed head and his hands rubbing his eyes and he looked so adorable and real that Castiel swallowed a yelp and put on a smile. “Good morning, Dean.”

Dean nodded back at him, his eyes widening as he caught sight of Gabriel, lounged out on the couch and waving at him. “Morning, Dean-o. You have a good time with Cassie yesterday afternoon?”

The last two words were said mockingly and Castiel swallowed down a growl. “Gabriel, this is Dean. Dean, this is my brother Gabriel.”

Gabriel waggled his eyebrows and grinned, turning towards Castiel. “He’s kinda cute, Cas.”

“Gabriel!”

He held up his arms in feigned surrender, “Alright, okay. Right words at the wrong time, understood. Why don’t you come take a seat, Deanie? There’s plenty of room on the couch.” He scooted over to prove his point and this time Castiel couldn’t hold back his growl. Gabriel was going to fuck everything up just like he always did, was going to drive Dean away....

Dean didn’t move towards the door though, he just moved closer to Castiel, taking the same seat he had taken yesterday at the breakfast bar. Castiel sat beside him, barely paying attention to Gabriel flipping the TV on and watching the news, something about a man drowning at a beach he had never been to. He normally watched the news, anything to get his mind off of Anna, but he didn’t care about them in the slightest now. He tried not to look too obvious watching Dean, but he was mesmerized.

He wanted to help him in some way, he could tell that Dean needed to be helped somehow, and if he only knew how much he was helping Castiel. It wasn’t like he wanted Dean to be his charity case, and he didn’t want Dean to think that he only put his own suicide on hold because he was here. He hadn’t wanted him to come into his life at this time and for those reasons, but he couldn’t help but want to hold onto Dean so tightly and never let him go.

“You don’t talk much, do you? I thought it was just because of what happened yesterday, but I guess not.” He hated to push but he had already told Dean so much, not everything but enough, and now he wanted to learn more about him.

Dean cleared his throat, “I’m usually pretty friendly, you know? I guess I’m still a little disoriented. I’ve never really met anyone quite like you before, Castiel.”

Castiel beamed, sliding his hand across the counter top and grasping Dean’s own, squeezing the fingers gently. Dean looked down, surprised at the gesture, but he didn’t try to pull Castiel’s hand off of his own and it gave Castiel hope more than anything else could.

Dean would never be a replacement for Anna, but maybe, just maybe, he could help him move on.

Gabriel stood up then, “I’m gonna leave you two alone for a while. The news is even more fucking depressing than usual. Don’t wait up for me, Cassie.” With barely a glance at the two of them he was gone, leaving Castiel frozen in place and uncomfortable considering he was alone with Dean again.

Dean looked up at him and shot him a small smile and Castiel smiled back, realizing his hand was still on Dean’s.

“Sorry about him. Didn’t know he was coming over.” The look in Dean’s eyes convinced him that it was perfectly fine, that _he_ was perfectly fine, so Castiel continued. “Figured you would be out before sunrise, but I guess I was wrong about that too, huh? You don’t seem like the sticking around type. Don’t get me wrong,” he added quickly. “I’m happy you stayed. I was hoping you would, I’ve been alone quite a lot lately and it gets lonely. I don’t mind being alone, I just... sometimes want someone else here. My boss is more than happy to oblige, but sometimes I just need a complete and total stranger who hasn’t known me for years.” And then he couldn’t help but notice and blurt out what should have been obvious last night. “You don’t have anywhere to stay, do you?”

“I did, but not anymore. I should go though, don’t want to put you out or....”

“Absolutely not.” Castiel shook his head but internally he was screaming in panic. So as not to let Dean see the look no doubt playing out on his face, he quickly picked up both their dishes - barely paying mind to Dean’s still full one - and headed to the sink, scrubbing them furiously. There wasn’t a word or a sound from Dean but somehow Castiel knew he was still there, waiting for whatever Castiel had to say next. He couldn’t force Dean to stay, not really anyway.

_Dean, please stay because I’m a fuck up and I like you so much and I think we have something._

_Oh, and by the way, if you leave I might just possibly kill myself._

“You stay here for as long as you need,” Castiel said, voice tight, his back still facing Dean. “I’m happy to have you and I hope I can help you get back on your feet again.”

There was a long silence that caused Castiel to tense up further, dreading the words that he didn’t want to hear, the words that Dean should leave after all. Castiel must have been freaking Dean out by now, any sane person would be out the door already. Needy, needy Castiel.

“Alright, Castiel.”

He nearly slumped to the ground in relief.

 

Sam was on his trail, Dean could feel him as surely as he could the wind.

The strange part was that he didn’t really care, not that he ever did. His partner could hunt him down and he’d still be running, just that little bit out of reach. He’d go hide out in the woods if he had to, if he thought that Sam wouldn’t find him there.

Sam was getting closer and closer and all Dean found himself doing was slipping further and further down into Castiel’s life. He didn’t know why he lied about no longer having a place to stay, didn’t know why he put off leaving like he did but he _did_ ; he thought up excuses in his head, reasons why he had to stay. _I’m being hunted down and I’m hiding out in some human’s apartment, it’s as simple as that. This is a way to get closer to humanity, a way to do it without wanting to steal his skin._

He needed organs still, he had a quota every month, but he would not take them from Castiel. He had never rejected a human before, had never known that rejection could come from trust and love, the exact opposite of the human spectrum he had been forced to swallow. It was the first time he had used that word with meaning too: _love_.

He loved Dean, loved his skin and his hair, his eyes and the way he held himself. He had loved Sam too, as a friend, before he had driven off the deep end - or maybe Dean had? He loved shopping and hunting, the sound boots made on pavement and the way men would look at him like he was a prize, like he was for their eyes only.

Dean loved Castiel in a completely different way though, he loved that he talked when he was nervous, loved his short, jet black hair that always looked like he had just gotten out of bed, loved his big blue eyes and his skinny body and his soft skin. He wanted to claim Cas, but not in the way he had ever expected. He wanted to be with him every second of every day. It was only being with him that he didn’t think about the hunt, didn’t think about who - or what - he truly was.

With Castiel he could forget about stealing skin and those eyes blinking back at him. He could forget that the world outside Castiel’s apartment was a cruel and terrible place, and he had been sent up in the midst of it all. He could forget about his mission, stop worrying about becoming human.

Discovering humanity with Cas was the greatest thing he had stumbled across.

Their second day together was spent in the apartment. Castiel wasted time by reading to Dean, books about faeries and vampires and aliens, the latter especially making Dean laugh. He also sketched Dean for an hour or two, making Dean kneel in the sunlight or sprawl out on the couch. Castiel was like a big, bright ball of sunshine and he was Dean’s own, it really did feel like that.

They spent a week together of doing nothing and everything at the same time, a week that Dean didn’t try to analyze or despise himself for. Sam would be coming for him sooner or later, but for now he had Castiel and that was enough. Castiel took him grocery shopping one afternoon, letting Dean pick out whatever he wanted despite the fact that Cas never saw him eat anything. It must have seemed weird to the human but he never brought it up and Dean was grateful for that. Dean did pick out a box of something called Twinkies, enjoying the look of happiness on Castiel’s face.

He knew then though that it wasn’t meant to last. None of this was.

How long could he stay with Castiel before he was forced to tell him the truth? How long before Castiel got too suspicious and then eventually rejected him? The only thing he could figure out was that Cas didn’t ask questions because he was messed up in a lot of ways too. Dean wanted to help him and he knew that Cas, in turn, wanted to help Dean.

No one could help Dean though, and not being human, he could hardly expect himself to help Cas either.

They flirted with each other relentlessly, held each other’s hands on brief occasions, finding comfort in something the other had that neither of them could express. They needed each other and maybe that was all it was.

Half-way through the week he woke up in Castiel’s bed to find the human crouched on the ledge, still in his pajamas, surprisingly facing towards Dean. He immediately sat up but then froze, unsure what the human would do next. He was already too attached to say goodbye to Castiel, already too sure of what he wanted to allow Castiel to take a step back.

“It’s my thirteenth time,” he swallowed. “Doesn’t that mean I’ll jump? I guess I’m just testing myself, really. Since you tripped below my window everything’s changed. I don’t... understand it but I want to be near you all the time, even when I’m sleeping. I can’t... sleep anymore without you there and I don’t know what to do. I know, it’s so pathetic, _I’m_ so pathetic, but it doesn’t change the way I feel about you. I mean, I feel different around you. Like I’m more me and less of someone else.”

“Cas....” Before he could tell himself no, Dean yanked the human down from the ledge and pulled him in for a kiss.

They kissed for a long time. Dean could taste the hot, salty tears streaming down Castiel’s face, felt his soft skin with the pads of his fingers and ran his thumb back and forth across his cheek. He cared about what happened to Cas, he really did, and he hated to see him hurt like this. He knew the human had a lot of problems, knew he was having a hard time existing, and if he could do anything to change that then Dean knew he would.

He would do anything to help Cas.

“You told me the day you met me that it was okay. Well, it’s still okay, Cas. I really like you too, more than I should.”

Castiel’s eyes widened and Dean held him closer, wishing he could express every thought and feeling to the human. “You do? Because you don’t have to tell me that if you don’t really mean it just to make me feel better.”

“I want to make you feel better, but it’s not about that. I think... I think I love you. I don’t even really know what that is, but I want to be around you all the time too. I think of you all the time. I just can’t get you out of my head.”

Castiel smiled, a small smile but it warmed Dean up from the inside out. “Me neither, Dean. I love you too. You make me feel like I’m alright, that I’m a good person and that I’m worth something.”

“You are, Cas. You’re worth everything.”

“Thank you, Dean, but... I should tell you more about myself.” Dean knew that nothing Castiel could say would change his mind about him, but he could tell that Castiel was scared to share the deepest, darkest parts of his life with him. Dean hadn’t told him his own, but he had been open about some other things. “My sister Anna, the one I always talk about, is dead.” Dean’s face immediately softened. “It’s why I’m at where I am right now. I’ve been depressed and suicidal. She was everything to me, my best friend, my twin.”

“Cas Cas Cas....” Dean said it like a mantra, over and over and over as he pulled Castiel even closer until he suspected he was more than just smothering him but suffocating him. Castiel held onto him tightly, burrowing his head in his chest and it felt like he fit there. More than that, Dean wanted them to stay like that forever.

He ran his hands through Castiel’s hair, repeating his name over and over even as the human’s hands slid down from Dean’s waist to undo the belt buckle of his jeans, pull down the zipper and start yanking his jeans down his legs. Dean didn’t stop him, he wanted this too. He gripped Castiel tighter though, hoping it would slow his movements and it did, he pressed a kiss to Dean’s cheek and let Dean do the rest. Even with all the seducing he had never had sex wearing someone else’s skin, only his own, and he had never had sex with a human before. He had always wanted to know what it would feel like, but never wanted to do it with those he hunted.

Detaching himself from his victims was necessary, it left him better able to do his job.

Castiel was a different story though, Dean wanted him to lead and he wanted to follow for once in his existence. He wanted Castiel to see him, all of him, but only his human skin. There would come a time where Castiel would see the real him and run in the other direction, but it didn’t have to be today.

When they were naked Dean lay atop Castiel on the bed, panting from the exertion it took to simply move as they writhed against each other, tasting and feeling. He felt frantic and he knew Castiel did too, by how tense he was, but he seemed to realize that Dean wanted to take it slow and followed his lead in that. It didn’t take any effort to want to be with the human so completely, in every way, but it took every ounce of strength to stay in control of himself and he exhausted himself with the hope that Castiel would too, so he wouldn’t have to see....

He slid deeper inside the human, drew himself closer to the heat inside and the fierce warmth emanating from Castiel’s skin. Castiel was pressing sloppy and desperate kisses into his skin, his lips moist and his blue eyes searching Dean’s face with adoration and happiness. Dean’s body was telling him to move and so he did. 

He was becoming Dean with every thought and every thrust, with every press of Castiel’s lips into his over-sensitized skin. He no longer knew where Dean ended and he began, he no longer cared. Dean was screaming out for release somewhere inside him, the alien was screaming out for reprieve silently into Castiel’s neck, teeth nipping the skin there tenderly. And maybe there wasn’t a difference.

Maybe he really _was_ Dean.

Something moved or rather, blossomed inside him then. He panicked and pulled himself out of the other man’s body - probably quicker than he should have - and off the bed. He immediately went to the mirror in the corner of the room, examining his naked form in its reflection of what was real.

He could see Castiel sit up in the mirror, beautiful body on full display for him. He seemed more impatient than anything, which was a sort of relief. “What’s wrong?”

Dean swallowed and dared take a glance at him through the mirror. He had been taken off guard, his new body betraying his need and his deepest, darkest pleasure. “My body is... responding.”

Castiel looked at him strangely. “Isn’t that what it should be doing?”

“I just...,” he stuttered, wanting to sound as genuine as possible without going too far. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

Castiel nodded sympathetically, scooting closer to the edge of the bed and holding his hands out for Dean to take. Dean turned around finally, staring at those hands, not knowing what to do with them. “Dean, are you a virgin?”

He knew what it was, knew it was something to be ashamed of from what he had heard and seen. Human men could be so cruel sometimes, he knew how deep their malice grew when it went unchecked. He shouldn’t admit to it because it was only partially true, but he nodded anyway, slowly, head bowed and not wanting to look Castiel in the eye. He was having a lot of firsts with Castiel, but somehow it all felt okay. It was Castiel, after all.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m proud I could be your first. You’re my first too, you know.”

Dean smiled at him and finally put his hands in Castiel’s own, letting the human drag him back into the bed. Castiel didn’t push him to finish what he started, he simply laid back against the headboard and held Dean in his arms, tucking Dean’s head under his chin. Dean laid there, no longer embarrassed but sated and content to simply be for that moment in time.

 

Castiel brought Dean breakfast in bed the next morning, wanting to do something good for him. Last night hadn’t gone as expected, no, it was better than expected. Sure, Castiel had had to take care of himself in the morning since Dean had seemed too traumatized to continue, but holding Dean in his arms had been more than worth the pain of denial. It was amazing that Dean trusted Castiel enough to stay with him throughout the week, that Dean wanted to listen to him ramble on about things that didn’t matter and endure the long hours of sitting still so Castiel could sketch him.

Dean didn’t know how beautiful he was: a perfectly portioned face, full and very kissable lips, vulnerable green eyes, too many freckles to count and a muscled body that Cas wanted to touch all the time. More than that, Dean was really special, he seemed genuine about the things he opened up about: his hobbies, interests and hopes.

Castiel wanted to know so much more about him that he couldn’t take it. He never wanted Dean to leave so much that it hurt physically, like an ache in his chest.

He had already told Dean how he felt and Dean felt the same way, which was more than a relief, but still, something was missing. He couldn’t pinpoint it exactly, but Dean wasn’t saying something and he had to get it out of him somehow.

The smells of bacon and coffee immediately woke Dean up the second Castiel came into the room and sat down at the edge of the bed. Dean shot him an embarrassed look, no doubt from the night before, and once more Castiel ignored the way that Dean would avoid food at all costs, never touching it but something in his eyes saying that he wanted to.

“I was thinking that maybe we could go out for a little while today. Maybe to that new state park about a half hour’s drive from here. How does that sound?”

Dean picked up the coffee and held it in his hands. “Sounds good, Cas. I’d love to spend a day outside with you.”

Castiel ran his hands through Dean’s hair, which stuck out in pretty much every possible direction. He then took Dean’s plate and ate it all himself when it was clear Dean wouldn’t be eating anything. If it was an eating disorder, Dean didn’t seem the victim of it; he was lean and muscular, not skeletal. As much as Castiel wracked his brain, he was unable to ignore how Dean watched him with interest and curiosity. Maybe he could coax Dean to open up more once they went out and were alone, with fresh air and sunshine.

Within the next hour they were on the road, the drive was quiet and Dean seemed even more withdrawn than usual. Every time Castiel would look over he’d be biting his lip and deep in thought, and Castiel wanted to ask if he was okay but that was all he ever asked. He was the one who wasn’t okay, the one that needed help. He had known getting up on the ledge that he wouldn’t have jumped, it was just a test of sorts. He found that he really wanted to be with Dean, wanted to be what Dean needed and wanted Dean to be what he needed.

There were still a lot of barriers to breach between them though, and he was determined to breach some of them today.

Castiel didn’t say a word, merely put one of his hands over Dean’s to convince him that he wasn’t alone.

The park was heavily wooded and featured a dizzying array of trails. It was far removed from much of the city and civilization, giving it an eerie, haunted feel. Castiel didn’t like it but he felt safe with Dean there, he always felt safe with Dean. Despite how shy and sometimes out of it Dean seemed, Cas also knew that he was strong and stubborn, that maybe he had just had a bad past few years and needed to forget about them. Castiel got it, he really did, but their relationship or whatever they had was never going to work if they didn’t open up more.

With a heavy heart he stepped out of the car, took Dean’s hand in his own and chose a random trail. It was a dreary day, the sun hiding behind the clouds and Cas kept Dean close, realizing how alone the two of them were. They walked hand in hand, side by side for an hour or two before Dean froze in place. Castiel stopped alongside him, looking at him carefully. Dean seemed to realize just what was on his mind.

“I’m not human, Castiel.”

Castiel’s hand dropped out of Dean’s. “What?”

“I...,” Dean cut off, looking at the trees around him other than at Castiel. “I’m not human. I’m what you people call an alien. I’ve been sent up to Earth to harvest organs. That was what I was doing for years before I met you.”

There was a long drawn out silence and then Castiel laughed. He laughed so long and so hard that he doubled over from the force of it, laughed until he could barely stand up anymore, laughed until he forgot where he was and just how much Dean meant to him. His laughter started to disintegrate once he realized that Dean wasn’t laughing along with him, and why would he?

“If you’re trying to drive me away, Dean,” he chuckled, taking Dean’s hand in his own once more and squeezing it, “it’s not really working. That whole speech actually just made me more interested in you.”

Dean yanked his hand out of Castiel’s and Castiel immediately turned serious and hurt. He didn’t know why Dean was doing this, playing tricks on him like this but he didn’t like it. It was funny at first, funny and ridiculous, but now Dean was acting strange and he didn’t know what to do with it.

“I’m serious, Cas. I’m not human. I steal the skins of humans so no one can see my true skin. I’m even wearing one right now, and I would show you what I really look like, that this isn’t my face or my skin, but I don’t think I’d be able to repair it afterward. I wanted to tell you, Cas, but I didn’t know how.” Castiel backed away from Dean, keeping his eyes trained on him as if Dean would kill him for revealing this. For all Castiel knew, he would. Somehow, Dean’s hurt face didn’t register in his mind. “Please, Cas. This doesn’t change how I feel about you. I love you so much. What my people told me was wrong, that we aren’t capable of love. I have never met anyone like you, Castiel.”

Castiel continued backing away, body crowded with panic, but he eventually turned around and ran back towards where he thought his car was. He knew Dean wasn’t following him and he didn’t know why, didn’t know why Dean kept on calling him, screaming his name as if it meant something to him.

He ran until he couldn’t remember where he was anymore, ran until he couldn’t breathe, until he could no longer remember Dean before that moment. He ran so hard and so fast, not watching where he was going, and he tripped over a branch and fell flat on his face, hard. It grounded him for a few important minutes; there was such a deep silence around him that he was afraid. Dean was supposed to be here, Dean was supposed to be protecting him.

But from what? From himself?

Tears were streaming down his face as he tried to move his legs, tried to get back up again. But when he heard the sound of crunching leaves nearby he immediately went still, wondering if Dean had come to find him, to help him or to kill him.

Someone was leaning over him, he could sense it. He looked up at the unbelievably tall figure hovering over him, and even though he was cast in shadow he could still see the cruel look on his face.

“You must be Castiel.”

Something hit him hard in the back of the head and the darkness engulfed him.

 

Dean knew it wouldn’t end well, there was nothing about what he said to Castiel that could have ended well.

The human deserved to know though, had a right to know what he was and what he had done for most of his existence and trained for throughout all of it. He wasn’t like that anymore, he no longer felt the pull of the hunt nor the need for seduction. He broke away from his partner the only way he knew how, but it had only made him angrier, revealing the humanity in him even more than in Dean.

He had the strongest desire to be with Castiel but it was all over now. Castiel would never love him again, would never trust him again. To Castiel he was just a thing, and he wanted to tell him how he no longer could tell the difference between him and Dean.

How he _was_ Dean now.

Dean didn’t try to chase after Castiel, not wanting to frighten him. There was so much more he wanted to express until he realized that he had said it all, the most important things anyway. Cas had to know that he loved him, that he would do anything for him, turn against his own kind, go on the run for and with him.

And then he heard the sound of an engine revving and then stopping, and he knew exactly what that meant.

He rushed towards the sound that had caused horror to bubble up within him, knowing Castiel was heading straight towards the noise because that was the direction he had gone.

Sam.

No, this couldn’t be happening now; Dean had only just told him and they still needed time, time they couldn’t afford to waste with this right now. He ran faster but the silence got to him, making him lose his sense of direction and causing him to panic further. He couldn’t let Sam get to Cas, it was the best form of revenge he could get. Whatever Sam wanted to do he had to do to Dean, not Cas.

Dean had killed Jessica to get away, had killed her to maybe cause his partner to see how human he was, loving her, not taking her skin or her eyes or cutting off her hair to keep in that box of his that he thought Dean didn’t know about. If Sam could love then Dean could love, but it was never as simple as that.

He could hear Castiel scream for help and he realized he was close, swerved in and out of the closely set trees until he was there.

Sam was standing over Castiel, who was laying flat on his back on the ground, recoiling in fear and sobbing, still screaming for help. When his gaze caught Dean’s he went quiet, and Sam turned around to look at his partner.

“There you are. I thought I would never find you.”

“Let him go.” Dean stood his ground despite the fact that he was shaking in fear. His partner was stronger than him in every way, and he would overpower Dean within moments. Still, it didn’t matter, if he could just get Castiel out of here then he would gladly allow Sam to snuff out his existence.

Sam was no longer looking at the human, it was like he simply didn’t exist anymore. He walked closer to Dean and Dean let him, let him come to him until their noses were nearly brushing. His partner smiled but it was a sad smile, and once more Dean had thought about what he had done. About the crime he had committed. “And why should I? I broke into your place, Dean,” his voice dripped with contempt as he said the name. Dean would never dare to call his partner Sam, but he felt enough like Dean now to hate the way Sam said it. “I found Jess’ head, her eyes blinked back at me. I couldn’t take it, couldn’t get why you had done it, so I brought her here.”

He reached out of the backpack he was holding and pulled out her head, it was no longer blinking and the face was pale and cold and lifeless. Dean swallowed hard, forcing himself not to look at Castiel.

“Maybe I loved her, maybe I thought I could, anyway, but it doesn’t matter now. You broke your rigid code, and then you fell in love yourself. It’s sickening, to see you like this, to know you ran, thought you could get away from me.” He dropped Jessica’s head at Dean’s feet and Dean jumped, unable to kick the head away, unable not to close his eyes and not relive the look on her face when he killed her, that look of horrible knowing. “You killed her and then you took her head.”

_I killed her and then I took her head. I needed it, I needed her to look at me, needed to see the monster that I am._

Sam turned away from him and back towards the human Dean loved. “And now I’m going to remove Castiel’s.”

“No!” Dean surged forward and hit Sam hard on the back, but Sam grabbed him with barely a second passing and shoved him to the ground, hitting him again and again, beating him to a pulp. Castiel was sobbing again as this was going on, trying to crawl away but Sam dug his fingernails into the human’s leg until he was screaming.

As soon as Sam turned away from him Dean got up and ran. He heard Sam laughing, calling after him, taunting him, telling him he would find him and break him too, keep his head for all eternity. It didn’t matter. The last thing he saw before he ran was the look on Castiel’s face: the look of hopelessness and abandonment.

He would never forget it.

Dean walked and walked and then he ran, stumbling across a semi and overjoyed when he realized the door was open. He grabbed the two things he needed, leaped out of it and started running back towards Castiel, hoping that he wasn’t too late.

Sam was busy leaning over the human and tearing into his clothes when Dean saw him through the trees again. He crept closer, hoping Cas didn’t notice him, Cas who had gone still and silent and Dean could see the blood running down his face and pooling in his neck. He knew Sam had opened up Dean’s back with his hands, hoped Castiel hadn’t seen it as he walked away. He was slower with each step now, trying to hold his skin together, trying to keep Dean with him.  

With three more steps he was there, screwing the cap off the container of petrol and dumping it all over his partner. Sam whirled around, but he couldn’t manage to grab Dean before he flicked the lighter and threw it on Sam, lighting him on fire. Dean immediately backed away as Sam ran, smothered in flames, not making a sound. When he could no longer see him Dean could see the smoke rising up into the sky in the distance, acrid gray smoke that made the sky darker than it had been.

He looked away and saw Castiel looking up at him, big blue eyes shining so brightly in the bloody mess that was his face. Dean knelt down and cupped that face in his hands, wiping off the blood with the pads of his fingers, wanting to kiss Castiel so badly but not daring to.

It was over, but it wasn't over yet.

“Dean,” Castiel gasped. “Your back....”

Dean’s hands immediately went to his arms, currently where the skin was continuing to peel away. He felt like he was losing Dean, piece by piece, but when Castiel grasped his hands and pulled them away, he could still miraculously feel Dean inside of him, feel the two of them entwine until they really were the same being, the same person.

Cas smiled up at him, the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. “It’s okay, Dean. I'm okay and you’re okay. _We’re_ okay.”

“I didn’t want you to see me like this, Cas....” But Castiel’s hands reached around him and felt his true skin, still smiling as he ran his fingers back and forth across the cold, slightly slimy surface. Dean sank into the touch, never having a human touch his true skin before, never wanting anyone to until he met Castiel.

After long moments of touching each other, Dean finally stood up and helped to pull Castiel up, supporting him as he swayed a bit. They walked back towards the car, an arm wrapped around Cas and Cas’ arm miraculously wrapped around Dean, the both of them holding each other as if they would literally fall apart if they didn’t. Dean would too, but somehow it didn’t matter so much anymore. Castiel had walked behind him for a bit, staring at the black of his skin, touching him briefly here and there. Dean leaned into the touch every time, humming in contentment.

When they made it back to Cas’ apartment, Cas had Dean sit on his bed and he sat behind him, pulling the skin back together at his back and stitching it up. He must have understood and respected Dean’s wishes to keep the skin, but by the look in his eyes Dean could tell that the human didn’t seem to care any way. He racked his highly advanced brain but he couldn’t pinpoint the reason why Castiel was doing all this, treating him with care, placing kisses on his true skin and on the one he stole. 

“I don’t care what you are, Dean. We’ve all made mistakes, and I know you’re a good person. You saved my life and now, I’m going to save yours.” He pushed Dean gently down onto the bed, kissing him.

Dean dreamed of flames and smoke rising higher and higher into the sky, he dreamed of Castiel’s steady hands stitching up the skin he once loved but now felt a part of, he dreamed of not knowing where he ended and Dean began, of Dean kissing Castiel, of him kissing Castiel, of there being no difference. He dreamed that he was the reborn Dean, packed to the brim with love and hope for the future.

He dreamed for the first time, but the best dream wasn’t a dream at all. It was waking up to Cas’ arms wrapped around him, squeezing him tightly but not too tightly, warm breath ticking the skin at his throat.

He was Dean Winchester and he was in love with Castiel.

**FIN**


End file.
